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Literary and Cultural Writeups .
THE MESSAGE OF BHAGAVAD GITA CAME TO CAMUS VIA ROMAIN ROLLAND
Romain Rolland (1866–1944) was a prominent French author, pacifist, and one of the first major Western thinkers to popularise Eastern spirituality in the early 20th century. His connection to the Bhagavad Gita stems from his deep interest in Indian philosophy and his friendships with iconic spiritual leaders. Romain Rolland was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature for 1915. Rolland was 49 at the time. This is also the same period when he was studying Indian philosophy, yoga, and Gandhi — which later led him to write Vie de Vivekananda 1929 and bring the Gita to France.
Romain Rolland’s reading of the Bhagavad Gita was a great inspiration on Albert Camus. Camus grew up in Algeria reading Rolland especially Jean-Christophe and La Vie de Vivekananda at a time when Rolland had made the Gita known to the French public as “the Gospel of Action.” For Rolland, the Gītā’s teaching of niṣkāma karma to act without attachment to results was the moral answer to war and ideology. That same ethic reappears in Camus: the demand to revolt, to act with lucidity, and to refuse both despair and illusions of historical victory. When Rolland died in 1944, Camus wrote in Combat that he had taught a generation “to refuse to hate without ceasing to fight.” In this sense, Rolland was the bridge: he brought the Gita to France, and Camus carried its spirit into the literature of the absurd and the rebel.
( Avtar Mota )
Key sources
1. Romain Rolland, La Vie de Vivekananda (1929), Gallimard
2. Albert Camus, Carnets I (1935-1942) on reading Rolland as a youth
3. Albert Camus, Combat, 31 Dec 1944 , Obituary for Romain Rolland
LACK OF EMPATHY AND SELFISHNESS
A human relationship is not sustained by logic alone. It is sustained by recognition: the daily, quiet act of seeing another person as fully real. That is empathy. Without it, cohabitation becomes negotiation, and love becomes administration. You cannot live with a person who lacks empathy, because you end up living alone inside a shared life.
And this applies to individuals and groups equally. A marriage, a friendship, a workplace ; and wherever humans gather, the same law holds.
Philosophically, this has been argued for centuries. Adam Smith, in "The Theory of Moral Sentiments", called sympathy “the foundation of justice.” He meant our capacity to place ourselves in another’s situation. When that capacity is absent, moral reciprocity collapses. One party demands to be understood but refuses to understand. One party expects care but withholds it. That asymmetry is not difference. It is exploitation.
Contemporary psychology confirms the link. Low empathy correlates strongly with narcissistic traits, instrumental relationships, and moral disengagement. Empathy is what inhibits us from using people as tools. Without it, the other is reduced to function: provider, audience, problem-solver. Martin Buber called this the “I–It” relation. You do not meet the person. You use the role. To live like that long-term is a form of social death. At scale, this is how groups justify cruelty — by refusing to imagine the life on the other side.
This is why lack of empathy is the second name of selfishness. Selfishness is not only taking more than your share. It is the prior decision that only your interiority counts. The empathic person asks, “What is this like for you?” The unempathic person asks only, “What is this like for me?” Pain, fatigue, grief ; all are filtered and dismissed if they do not touch the self. The cost is then externalized. You carry the emotional labour, the repair, the translation.
Scholars debate whether empathy can be biased or exhausting, and whether “compassion” is a better guide. But even that debate concedes the point: a life without any orientation to the other is not sustainable, whether that life is one person or one million.
Regret is what follows. The regret of speaking into a void. The regret of realising you were not in a relationship, but in a transaction where only one side kept accounts.
( Avtar Mota )
BOOK
REVIEW
Kashmir:
Its Aborigines and Their Exodus ( Revised Edition )
Author:
Colonel Tej K. Tikoo, PhD.
Publisher:
Lancer Publishers & Distributors, New Delhi
Pages:
526
A
Monumental Study of Kashmir's Civilisational Legacy and Historical Tragedy
Colonel Tej K Tikoo's ‘Kashmir: Its Aborigines and Their Exodus (
Revised Edition )’ is a monumental and meticulously researched work that
occupies an important place in contemporary scholarship on Kashmir. At a time
when historical narratives concerning Kashmir are frequently shaped by
ideological predispositions, political expediency and selective memory, this
substantial volume seeks to present a comprehensive historical account of
Kashmir and its indigenous inhabitants through the prism of extensive
documentation, historical analysis and lived experience. The book is not merely
a chronicle of events; it is simultaneously a work of history, political
analysis, cultural documentation and collective remembrance. More
significantly, it constitutes a serious attempt to preserve the memory of a
community whose historical experience has often remained inadequately
represented in mainstream discourse.
The first impression that
the volume creates is one of extraordinary breadth and ambition. Spanning over
five hundred pages, the book traverses an expansive historical landscape
extending from geological antiquity and mythological traditions to the
contemporary political crisis in Kashmir. Colonel Tikoo demonstrates an
impressive command over a wide array of sources, including classical texts,
archaeological evidence, historical chronicles, official documents, government
reports, journalistic accounts and personal testimonies. The extensive use of
documentary material lends considerable authority and credibility to the
narrative. The author's scholarship is both deep and wide-ranging, reflecting
years of painstaking study and sustained intellectual engagement with the
subject.
Colonel Tikoo’s thematic
concerns give the work its scholarly weight. First, the very title,' Kashmir: Its Aborigines and Their Exodus
(Revised Edition )’ is a deliberate claim. By opening with Natya Shastra,
Sangitaratnakara, and Yoga Vasisht, he situates Pandits not as mediaeval
migrants but as bearers of Kashmir’s classical foundations. This reframes the
exodus from a 1990s law-and-order problem to a civilisational dislocation.
Second, the book is an exercise in historiographical balance. Colonel Tikoo’s
stated hope is to “set the record straight”. He does not demand that other
narratives be silenced, but that Pandit experience be documented with equal
rigour. The extensive use of Persian chronicles and modern Muslim historians
demonstrates engagement, not negation. Third, by consulting a
disaster-management authority, Tikoo moves the exodus out of pure identity
politics and into the comparative study of forced migration. Chapter 18 of this
book reads like a policy brief, discussing rehabilitation in terms of safety,
livelihood, and dignity. This is a major scholarly contribution. Fourth, the
book functions as an archive. It is conceived as “a record for future
generations of uprooted Pandits… now spread in far corners of the world”. A distinctive feature of this work is the
manner in which the author organises his narrative into nineteen carefully
structured chapters, each addressing a specific historical or political theme
while contributing to the larger conceptual framework of the book. Together,
these chapters create a coherent and compelling account of Kashmir's
civilisational journey.
The opening chapter, Ancient Kashmir: A Brief Historical Sketch,
introduces readers to Kashmir's antiquity by synthesising mythology, geology,
archaeology and classical historiography. Colonel Tikoo discusses the legend of
Satisar, the draining of the
primordial lake, the role of Kashyapa, the Naga traditions and the emergence of
early civilisation in Kashmir. He proceeds to examine the rise and decline of
various dynasties, including the Gonandas, Karkotas, Utpalas and Loharas, while
presenting illuminating portraits of rulers such as Ashoka, Lalitaditya Muktapida, Avantivarman and Queen Didda. These
pages succeed in restoring before the reader the image of Kashmir as a
flourishing centre of learning, spirituality and artistic excellence.
The subsequent chapters
dealing with the transition to Islam and the medieval period are equally
significant. Colonel Tikoo analyses the decline of indigenous political
authority, the establishment of Muslim rule and the profound social and
demographic transformations that accompanied these developments. He discusses
both accommodation and conflict, thereby situating religious change within
broader historical processes. The chapters on the Mughal, Afghan, Sikh and
Dogra periods further enrich the narrative by examining successive political
regimes and their impact upon Kashmiri society. Rather than reducing history to
simplistic binaries, the author endeavours to present a nuanced assessment of
each period, highlighting both achievements and limitations.
Equally noteworthy is the
chapter devoted to geography, communications and demography. Here the author
convincingly demonstrates how Kashmir's unique topography, strategic location
and physical isolation shaped its historical destiny. The relationship between
geography and politics emerges as a recurring theme throughout the book, and
the author's treatment of this subject considerably enhances the reader's
understanding of the Valley's historical evolution. The chapter on the Kashmiri
Pandits is among the most valuable sections of the book. Colonel Tikoo provides
a detailed account of the origins, traditions, social organisation and
intellectual contributions of this community. He traces their role in
philosophy, literature, administration and scholarship across centuries,
thereby underscoring their integral place within Kashmir's civilisational
fabric. This chapter assumes particular importance because it restores
historical visibility to a community whose contribution to Kashmir's cultural
heritage has often been overlooked.
Particularly stimulating is
the author's treatment of Kashmiriyat.
The concept has frequently been invoked in political and cultural discourse,
often without adequate historical scrutiny. Colonel Tikoo subjects the idea to
careful analysis, tracing its roots in the Rishi-Sufi tradition associated with
figures such as Lal Ded and Nund Rishi,
while simultaneously examining its limitations and contradictions. The
discussion is thoughtful, analytical and intellectually engaging, inviting
readers to reflect critically upon one of the most celebrated yet contested
ideas associated with Kashmir.
The political narrative
gathers momentum in the chapters dealing with twentieth-century developments.
The author's reconstruction of events between 1931 and 1947 is particularly
impressive. He carefully analyses the emergence of political movements, communal
tensions, constitutional developments and the circumstances that transformed
Kashmir into an international dispute. The complexity of these developments is
explained with admirable clarity and precision. The author's command over
modern political history is evident throughout these chapters. The discussion
on Article 370 constitutes another major contribution of the volume. Colonel
Tikoo examines the historical origins, constitutional implications and
political consequences of this provision in considerable detail. Whether or not
readers agree with all his conclusions, there can be little doubt regarding the
seriousness of his scholarship and the logical coherence of his arguments. The
chapter raises important questions concerning integration, autonomy and federalism,
thereby making a significant contribution to contemporary debates on
constitutional politics.
The chapters titled An Uneasy Truce, Gathering Storm and
Pakistan's Obsession with and Intervention in Kashmir collectively explain
the gradual deterioration of the political situation in Kashmir during the
latter half of the twentieth century. Colonel Tikoo analyses political
instability, administrative shortcomings, separatist mobilisation, external
interference and cross-border terrorism with considerable analytical
sophistication. The discussion is supported by extensive documentary evidence
and demonstrates the author's ability to link contemporary developments with
their historical antecedents.
The emotional core of the
book lies in the chapters dealing with the targeting, killings and eventual
exodus of the Kashmiri Pandits. In Pandits
Targeted, Militants Shed Kashmiri Pandit Blood and Exodus, Colonel Tikoo
documents, often in painstaking detail, the circumstances that compelled the
community to leave the Valley in 1989–90. These chapters derive their power not
merely from documentary evidence but also from the author's personal experience
as a member of the displaced community. The narrative is deeply moving without
descending into rhetorical excess. Instead, facts, testimonies and
documentation speak for themselves, creating a profoundly disturbing yet indispensable
historical record. The subsequent chapters dealing with myths surrounding the
exodus, the aftermath of displacement and questions relating to return and
rehabilitation are equally important. Colonel Tikoo critically examines
competing narratives and seeks to challenge what he regards as misconceptions
concerning the exodus. He discusses refugee life, loss of property, cultural
dislocation, psychological trauma and the continuing challenges associated with
rehabilitation. These chapters transform the book from a mere historical
account into an important work on memory, identity and displacement.
The final chapter,
appropriately titled Critical Issues,
synthesises the principal concerns raised throughout the volume and reflects
upon the future of Kashmir. Questions relating to identity, justice,
reconciliation and peaceful coexistence receive sustained attention. In doing
so, the author moves beyond historical narration to engage with pressing
contemporary concerns.
(
Avtar Mota )
Waiting To Be Taken
Old Jonathan had been fed up with his room. One window onto an air shaft, a radiator that performed its clanging monologue at 3 AM, and silence that refused to answer back. So on Tuesday, trash day on West 82nd (Manhattan ) he became his own discard.
He walked to West End and 82nd and leaned against a credenza with brass handles, like a prop waiting for stage directions. Around him: a chair with a dog’s autobiography chewed into the leg, a Breville that hissed philosophy instead of coffee, a dog in a tuxedo trapped in gilt.
No sign. Signs were for objects that didn’t know they were in a play. Jonathan knew.
His premise was simple, and therefore absurd: you put things on the curb, humans arrive, humans assign meaning by taking. Maybe for one day he’d be selected. Maybe for one day the universe would blink.
It wouldn’t. He knew that too. That was the contract.
By 8:30 AM, a woman with a French bulldog liberated the dog portrait. Jonathan watched the transaction and thought: So this is how value works. Someone points and says ‘this.’The sky, as expected, offered no footnotes.
At 10:15, a man in a beanie used Jonathan’s shoulder as leverage to lift the espresso machine. Jonathan didn’t flinch. I am furniture now, he thought. I am also the audience. The man didn’t thank him. The universe didn’t thank the man. The circuit was open, buzzing with nothing.
Noon: the chair went. The Franzen novels went. A single Le Creuset lid was adopted with more ceremony than Jonathan had received at his wedding. Each object was plucked from meaninglessness by a hand, then carried into another room where it would wait to become meaningless again.
Jonathan understood. He was Sisyphus, but the boulder was himself. He was Meursault, but the sun was a street lamp. He was on the curb because the alternative was his room, which was the same play with worse lighting.
At 5:10, the DSNY truck arrived. Two men in orange vests fed the credenza to the hopper. Jonathan stepped aside. To be compacted would be too literal. One of the men looked at him. “You alright, pops? Can’t put people out. That’s not a thing.” Jonathan smiled. “I know,” he said. “That’s the thing.” The truck left. The curb was empty. The world was empty. The play went on, because plays do. Jonathan was alone now. Just him and the street lamp on West End Avenue( Manhattan ), humming its sodium note. He looked up at it. It did not look back. Of course it didn’t. So he gave it his monologue.
“You see? You’re on every night. No one chooses you either. You don’t get carried home. You don’t get a new room. You just stand here and throw light at things that leave. And still, you turn on.”
He paused. The lamp buzzed. The 1 train groaned underground. The city declined to comment.
“That’s it, isn’t it?” Jonathan said. “The whole trick. You don’t wait for the taking. You don’t beg the hand. You just be the thing that shows up. Even if no one claps. Even if the only review is the dark.”
He laughed then. A short, private sound. Not bitter. Not happy. Just lucid. He buttoned his wool coat. “I’ll see you Thursday,” he told the lamp. “Recycling. Maybe they take glass. Maybe they don’t. I’ll be here either way.”
He walked back to his room. The radiator would be waiting. The silence would be waiting. He would be waiting.
( Avtar Mota)
PS
Critique of the story
Avtar Mota’s “Waiting To Be Taken ” is a sharp, compact exercise in literary absurdism. The premise : an old man discarding himself on trash day risks twee symbolism, but the execution stays grounded through concrete, Upper West Side detail. The Breville, the Franzen novels, the Le Creuset lid: each object plucked from the curb makes Jonathan ’s invisibility more acute, and more human.
The story’s structure mimics a day’s futility with timestamps that feel like stage directions, reinforcing Jonathan’s sense that he’s both prop and audience. His self-awareness prevents him from becoming pitiable. When he thinks “I am furniture now”and “I am also the audience,” the story pivots from despair to lucid revolt. That’s the Camusian turn made flesh.
The street lamp monologue is the piece’s hinge. By addressing something equally unchosen, Jonathan reframes value: “You just be the thing that shows up.” It’s not hope, but defiance without illusion. The prose is lean, wry, and avoids sentiment. The universe stays indifferent; Jonathan chooses anyway.
At under 600 words, the story doesn’t waste a beat. If anything, the DSNY exchange could be trimmed further to keep the focus on Jonathan’s interior logic. But that’s minor. This is absurdism with a New York accent : precise, unsentimental, and quietly triumphant.
(J. Paul )
The Bhakti Poetry of Mahatma Krishen Joo Razdan: A Sprinkling of Shiv Sutras
There is a sprinkling of core message of the Shiv Sutras in the Kashmiri Bhakti poetry of Mahatma Krishen Joo Razdan of Kashmir. It is not a scholarly borrowing or a forced interpretation. It is a living breath. The same awareness that Vasugupta received on the slopes of Mahadeva mountain in the 9th century flows, centuries later, through the verses of a saint-poet from Vanpoh, Anantnag.
This is why his comparison with Sant Tukaram is so apt. Tukaram carried Vithoba of Pandharpur in his Abhangas. He took Vedanta out of the monasteries and into the fields, into the language of farmers and traders. Mahatama Razdan did the same for Kashmir. He carried the non-dual Shiva of Vasugupta in his Kashmiri verses. He proved that the Divine listens to the language of the heart, not of the scholar. His verses are “steeped in non-dual wisdom” yet remain “tender, profound, and steeped in the cadence of prayer”. He opens ,"Shiv Pranae" not with a ritual invocation, but with a heartfelt surrender to Ganesha as the remover of inner obstacles. From there, he paints a vision of divinity that is at once transcendental and intimate.
Nowhere is the Shiv Sutra spirit clearer than in his famous line: “Hosh dim lagayo Pamposh Paadan”or "Grant me awareness. This life at your lotus feet, my Lord" . Here, hosh is the same Bodha of the Sutras that luminous self-awareness which alone is liberation. He does not ask for wealth, or heaven, or powers. He asks for awareness. Because the Sadhaka knows that with awareness, Maya dissolves on its own. With awareness, the lotus feet are not far away. They are here, now, as one’s own being. This is the core of Kashmir Shaivism. This is the cry of Mahatma Razdan’s Bhakti. The philosophy breathes. It weeps. It surrenders.
Mahatma Razdan wrote , "Bhaav pamposh pheil ananad sarasiy shiv shankarasiy chhe posha pooza ." or “Lotuses of rapt Bhaava have erupted in the boundless lake of Ānanda; Shiva, fused with Śakti as Śaṅkara, receives the worship of gods who rain down flowers upon their indivisible union.”
Mahatma Razdan’s line resonates with Trika intensity: the “Pamposh” are not passive blooms but Spanda, the explosive pulsation of Vimarsha-Shakti, tearing through the heart-lotus, shattering Maala as "Udyamo Bhairavaḥ" (SS 1.5), the sudden upsurge of the Absolute. The “Anand-sar” is no tranquil pool but the fathomless ocean of "Cit-ananda wherein "Jagadānanda" (ŚS 1.12) erupts the cosmos revealed as Shiva’s orgiastic bliss-play. “Shiv Shankara-siy chhe posha pooza” enacts "Shakti-chakra-sandhāne viśva-saṁhāraḥ ( SS 3.31) with ferocious immediacy: Shiva-Śakti Smarasya annihilates subject-object duality, whilst the "Posha-pooza" is anugraha unleashed ; grace as a violent downpour of flowers that obliterates finitude. Here "Chaitanyam Atma ( SS 1.1) stands unveiled: worship, worshipper, and worshipped collapse into the single, self-luminous fire of Pratyabhijñā, rendering Mahatma Razdan’s verse a mantra of awakening rather than mere devotion.
So the lineage is clear. From Lord Shiva to sage Vasugupta in the 9th century, to the Shiv Sutras, to the great commentators Kshemaraja and Abhinavagupta, to the living Trika tradition, and finally to Mahatma Krishen Joo Razdan in the 19th century. His "Shiv Pranae" and Leela poetry are the Shiv Sutras sung as Bhakti. They teach the same truth: the individual self is Shiva, the universe is His playful expression or Leela /Spanda, and liberation is Pratyabhijñā or recognising this truth, not by ritual but by awareness. Razdan wanted to “seek the very existence of Shiva” for “self-analysis and human perfection”. The Sutras guide us to “set aside the illusion and experience ultimate reality”. The goal is one. The language is different. One is in Sanskrit aphorisms for ascetics. The other is in Kashmiri song for every home.
To read Mahatma Razdan is to see how a tradition stays alive. It does not survive by being locked in books. It survives by being sung in households . The Shiv Sutras were revealed near Harwan, by Mahadeva mountain, whether inscribed on the Sankaropala rock or whispered to Vasugupta in a dream. A thousand years later, they were still being revealed this time in the heat and dust of the plains of the country where the exiled natives live at present .The mystic from Vanpoh asked for nothing but Hosh_at the Lord’s Pamposh Paada or Lotus feet . That is the sprinkling. That is the continuity. That is the grace of Kashmir Shaivism: it never stopped speaking. It only changed its tongue, so that the heart could understand.
( Avtar Mota)